


Bros don't let bros bite bros

by ophelianipples



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Malia is a cutie, bromance of the century, first attempt at writing Stalia, tw suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelianipples/pseuds/ophelianipples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't care, Stiles. I can't just watch you die when I know I can fix you! I don't care about everyone else, okay? You're my best friend… you're my /brother/."</p><p>Stiles's throat closed up and he could feel tears escaping his eyes. But he knew he had to be strong. Resist Scott's ridiculous cute puppy eyes. He had it all figured out, after all. When he died, so did the shadow. Which meant he couldn't hurt anybody else. Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bros don't let bros bite bros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glarinetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glarinetta/gifts).



> So i wrote this ages ago (after the episode with the MRI scan and the emotional trauma), but I'm thinking I might revisit it since i got a request for werewolf!Stiles. 
> 
> Basically my idea is that they get rid of the nogitsune but Stiles still has dementia, so he takes the bite (in following chapters). A lot of angst. I might have a crack at Stalia (they can learn control together, adorbs) - sorry to Sterek fans, i feel your pain :(
> 
> \--
> 
> I don't own characters or anything, this first chapter was previously uploaded by me on ff.net

As soon as they were out of earshot of their parents, Scott took Stiles's arm and forced him to make eye contact.

"This is bad," he said desperately, his voice cracking.

"No shit, Scott," Stiles _hissed,_ causing Scott to flinch. "Oh - sorry, sorry, but - I know what you're going to say Scott and just _don't,_ okay just _don't_ , because we can't give that fucker the power of a _werewolf!_ It's done enough damage in my human body! We can't risk it! _Everyone we know could die,_ Scott, _it literally wants to kill. Everyone_."

Scott's hand gripped Stiles's forearm convulsively. There were tears in his eyes.

"I don't care, Stiles. I can't just _watch you die_ when I know I can fix you! I don't care about everyone else, okay? You're my best friend… you're my _brother._ "

Stiles's throat closed up and he could feel tears escaping his eyes. But he knew he had to be strong. Resist Scott's ridiculous cute puppy eyes. He had it all figured out, after all. When he died, so did the shadow. Which meant he couldn't hurt anybody else. Ever.

Scott must have read his mind because he growled and said, "Stiles, I know what you're thinking - I used to think that too, remember?" A flare, gasoline, yes he remembered, he remembered so clearly - "but it's not true. You're trying not to hurt us? Then don't _die_ on us, Stiles! Death happens to the living, remember? Stiles?"

That last one came out as a whine, pleading and full of pain. Stiles had the odd sensation of wanting to laugh at Scott's dog-like tendencies at the same time as his chest felt like it was being ripped open, a hole that he'd buried down deep yawning open (remember? _remember?_ ), and he knew that Scott could smell the grief and pain coming off him in waves. Scott sobbed once, ragged, and pulled Stiles forward into a hug, warm and familiar, but wet with tears.

They stayed like that for a long time before they spoke again. "Scott, you know I won't agree to the bite with this thing still in my head."

"I know," Scott sounded broken, completely broken.

"We can either figure out how to get rid of it, or let the Oni deal with me, or let the dementia deal with me. Those are our options. Not the bite. Not when there are so many lives at risk."

Scott had his head in his hands, shaking and still crying, but he forced himself to look up and smile.

"We're going to figure it out, Stiles. I swear to you we will figure this out. I love you, man."

Despite everything, Stiles found himself smiling. "I love you too, Scott."

That wouldn't be the end of it, he knew for a fact. But at least he had his brother by his side.


	2. to bite or not to bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes a pros and cons list for taking the bite, Malia points out that it's really not that complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I guess I decided on Stalia for this fic? Wish me luck :S

That definitely wasn't the end of it. Stiles was half hoping that the nogitsune had somehow made his brain look like he had frontotemporal dementia without it actually being there.. but nope. That would be toooooo easy. And Stiles found himself weighing up his options in a good old fashioned pros and cons list. For 'The Bite.' Because of course, Stiles Stilinski will _not_ become a werewolf during an epic battle between wolves and Alphas/Kanimas/Beserkers/fucking _Jaguars_ \- he will become a werewolf because he has _incurable dementia._ Life fucking sucks, man.

Anyway, pros and cons.

Pros:

\- be a fucking superhero  
\- be alive  
\- no treatment = no ridiculous debt for dad (apart from what already exists)  
\- no more weird dementia/nogitsune-behaviour

 

Cons:

\- hunters  
\- i'll be Scott's beta? :S  
\- ability to smell and hear everything, like whether someone was just peeing or if they did a crap  
\- potential for history to repeat itself  
\- bite might not take and I'll die anyway

 

So the columns were pretty even. Although the Pros side did include being alive, so…

Yeah. He couldn't keep putting this off. 

He picked up his phone, fiddled with it, bounced his knee up and down, put his phone down, tapped his fingers on the list, stared at the Destiel gifset dominating his laptop screen - shit, was that a knock on his window?

He craned his neck to look, shoving a pen into his mouth to chew on. Bright eyes peered through his window - oh, it was Malia again. 

"What did I tell you about using the front door?" 

Malia poked her tongue out at him as she jumped into his room - landing on two feet, not four, which was an improvement on the last time.

"To not use it after 8 o'clock at night or before 9 o'clock in the morning?"

"It's already past 8?" Stiles blinked down at his phone. It was 8:30. He felt a familiar surge of panic - where had the time gone? He counted his fingers, watched them shake.

"What's this?"

Stiles looked up absently. Malia was frowning at his list, concentrating on each word. He waited for her to finish, remembering how helpless he'd felt when he couldn't read things, back then. Malia was doing really well, considering she'd spent a decade as a coyote after only a few years on learning how to read. Stiles wondered what her IQ was.

She looked at him again, eyes sharp. "What is this about?"

Oh, God. Okay. 

"Um.. well... last year I found out that I have this disorder. It's called frontotemporal dementia. So, parts of your brain basically just… rot away." He barked out a laugh. "There's no cure. So, the disease will kill me, eventually. But my other option is to ask Scott to bite me - maybe the bite won't kill me."

Malia was giving him that look - the _'if we were in the wild, this would be so simple'_ look - and Stiles braced himself for some creepy speech about how only the strongest survive and he shouldn't hold back the pack with his weakness.

"Take the bite."

"What? It - it's not that simple, okay - "

"But it is!" She picked up the list, brandished it at him. "Pros - STAY ALIVE. Cons - DIE. It is simple!"

Stiles gaped at her, then glared at her, then picked up his phone again and speed-dialled Scott.


	3. ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look, I just know how shitty it is when someone close to you - you don't get to say goodbye."
> 
> "You're asking us to say goodbye to you in case you die?" Lydia laughed, actually laughed. "Fucking hell, Stilinski. If you die I'm going to fucking kill you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is set after Liam is bitten but before they know anything about the mute killer dude (so, after season 4 episode 3). 
> 
> Probably won't be canon-compliant in terms of plot because i'm laaaazy
> 
> I have vague plans to have a Parrish/Derek pairing later on (maybe they discover Parrish is something supernatural and he joins in on training)

"Are you _sure?"_

"Dude, yes, for the last time. I didn't call this meeting to take a vote on it."

Stiles pauses, takes a deep breath. He tries not to look at Derek as he continues - "I know that the bite doesn't always… work." _Sorry Derek sorry sorry sorry_ \- "But frontotemporal dementia is _incurable,_ okay? So, yes, I'm taking a chance, but it - _will_ be worth it. Uhhh.. having said that, I don't want you all there when it - you know. So, just in case. Um. Oh God. This is awkward."

Everyone stared at him, and he felt like he was surrounded by ghosts. Paige, Allison, his own mother. Boyd, Erica, Allison's mother. Derek's whole fucking family - _Allison, Allison..._

"Look, I just know how shitty it is when someone close to you - you don't get to say goodbye."

"You're asking us to say _goodbye_ to you in case you _die?"_ Lydia laughed, actually _laughed._ "Fucking hell, Stilinski. If you die I'm going to fucking kill you."

"And I'll haunt you forever," Stiles grinned back, trying to channel his old Stiles-y self. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together energetically. "So, this is my plan. Friday night is the full moon, so Scott will turn me on Saturday night, which gives me ages to learn control before the next full moon. That gives all you losers like 3 days to declare your undying love - or hate -" Stiles threw a wink at Derek, who rolled his eyes - "for me. And - for the emotionally constipated in the room - I won't hold it against you if you don't want to say anything… or can't do it in person. I - uhh - I really love all of you guys - nothing will change that." 

Scott threw his arm around Stiles's waist, thankfully relieving Stiles from talking about _emotions,_ which is really difficult to do without any deflection, although admittedly he's had a lot of practice since Scott was bitten - "The bite will take." Scott announced. His 'True Alpha' voice made him sound a lot surer than he was.

"Yeah, the bite will take," Malia repeated, nodding emphatically. Her eyes were flashing blue, signalling her discomfort.

"It had better take," Dad spoke up from the corner. He had told his dad yesterday, and the Sheriff had simply nodded, resigned, said he knew it would happen eventually. Said that even without the dementia, he knew Stiles could never stay out of this stuff, and it would get him hurt one day, and that Scott would never let Stiles die when he could do something about it. There was hugging and crying and Dad said he didn't know what he would do without Stiles, and Stiles made him promise to keep being the only competent cop in Beacon Hills no matter _what._

Aaaand shit, now Stiles felt like crying again.

Stiles watched as Derek turned to the Sheriff and put a hand on his forearm, speaking quietly. Stiles made a mental note to ask later what it was about. 

He cleared his throat, swallowing back a lump of tears. "Okay, okay, I'm going home guys. You know where to find me."

He winked at the room in general before leaving. The winking was weird. He'd gotten into the habit of it while trying to recapture goofy pre-nogitsune Stiles. Scott assured him it wasn't _that_ bad, he did used to wink sometimes. But Stiles knew he overused it - it made him look deranged, only just keeping it together, but he couldn't break the habit.

_Everything is fine, everything is fine._


	4. the bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more angst and the bite, finally

Saturday came around too fast. The pack ended up coming over for lunch and nobody cried. They ate an obscene amount of curly fries and hash browns and potato gems because potato-based foods are probably the best thing that ever happened to Stiles. Malia practically had to be thrown forcibly out the door at the end, wanting to stay with Stiles. Even Derek had wished Stiles luck and thanked him for saving his sorry werewolf ass over and over again. Which reminded Stiles - "hey, Dad, what did Derek say to you the other day at the pack meeting?"

"Derek…?" Dad frowned for a moment before remembering - "Oh - yeah, he said he couldn't guarantee anything. But he's confident that this will work, because you're the strongest kid he knows." He paused to ruffle Stiles's hair proudly. "He said - he owes his life to you and promised to help you adjust… promised to start training you, Malia and Liam as soon as possible. In his spare time between looking for Kate, I suppose." He let out a hollow laugh. "He also apologised for letting you get involved in this at all. For the thousandth time. But if it saves you, Stiles… it's okay."

Dad looked at Stiles, and Stiles hated it, because he _recognised_ that look. When the doctor had said his mum didn't have much time left - Dad would stare at her like this for hours, drinking her in, branding her into his memory. When she was gone, he did the same with old photos. Stiles couldn't put him through that again.

Stiles, Scott, Scott's mum and Stiles's dad sat quietly in Stiles's bedroom. Stiles didn't want anybody else there. He probably wouldn't have kept Melissa around, but he felt like dad would need her if this went bad. And she is a nurse, which seems relevant.

"Look, if fucking Geriatric Gerard can survive the bite even with wolfsbane all through his system, I definitely can. Stop worrying, guys!"

Stiles tried to hide his own worry. He couldn't quite shake the fear of the nogistune coming back. His 'cons' list had grown a little since he wrote it - Deaton had dropped in, warned him that there might be complications 'inflicting the bite on a body that was once possessed' - Stiles should make an 'informed decision'. 

Well, fuck Deaton and his _'unusual circumstances.'_ It's not like Stiles had much of a choice.

"Scott, I'm ready. Do it."

Scott sniffed loudly and put his Alpha face on slowly.

"Do _not_ cry into my open bite wounds, Scotty, for the love of God -" his words were muffled as Scott pulled him into a hug.

"Don't die Stiles, I can't -" Scott said thickly, and then dad was there, and Melissa, and oh God they were having a group hug, great. Don't cry Stiles, don't cry - _nope,_ too late, Stiles was crying. Sobbing manfully into Scott's shoulder. Awesome.

Stiles didn't know how long the hug lasted. Time seemed to be going really slow and really fast at the same time. He found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his arm out, Melissa showing Scott where to bite so that he would miss important veins and arteries and shit like that. And before he knew it, Scott was asking, "you ready?" and he was nodding and he cried out in pain as the teeth dragged through skin and nerves, burning.


	5. a scent and a sound, i'm lost and i'm found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How are you so calm about this?" Stiles flailed his arms - his werewolf arms - around for emphasis. "I have superpowers! I - I have to see my dad! Oh my God. Do you think I could hear his heartbeat from here? I can hear yours, it's freaky."

  
And... nothing happened.   
  
It was very anticlimactic. Scott spent a few minutes washing his mouth out, hands shaking. They all sat there and watched the bite bleed sluggishly. At some point, Melissa jumped up and disinfected it, wrapped it up. The silence got to Stiles eventually and he cracked up, laughing hysterically.   
  
"Does that mean… did it work?" His dad was fidgeting, running his hand over the back of his neck.   
  
"I think so," Scott replied, watching Stiles with mild concern. There was a loud cracking sound from the window, and the three of them jumped around. Stiles couldn't muster the energy to look, feeling numb with relief, his cackles subsiding into weird little giggles. The others watched as Malia leaned the whole window frame against Stiles's desk, having just jumped inside. Dad dropped his head into his hands and sighed.   
  
"Stiles, are you okay?"   
  
Malia looked between Scott and Stiles, confused.    
  
Stiles stared at the ceiling. He felt disconnected from his body - when he nodded his head it felt like he was moving in slow-motion. He felt the dip in the bed as Malia curled up next to Scott.   
  
"I - I think he's okay," Scott said, leaning on Malia, weak with relief. "Stiles? How do you feel?"   
  
Stiles scrunched his eyes closed, thought about it. There was no pain, but he felt lightheaded and tired. Really tired actually, and his pillow was really squishy and nice. "M'gonna nap," he mumbled, turning on to his side and nuzzling the pillow. It really was a nice pillow. Scott and Malia both curled up on the bed with him and he threw his limbs over them in a kind of boneless hug, and promptly fell asleep.   
  
_~~~_   
  
_He was there on the bed with Malia and Scott when the rest of the pack climbed through the window. Derek was a massive black wolf, and Stiles reached out to pet him - but he had paws, tiny little paws, not long pale fingers. He looked around and realised that they were all animals, now, and Scott howled happily. They all scrambled out the window and into the forest, and the air was cool and fresh. Derek caught the scent of something big and lead the chase to bring it down - Stiles wasn't even sure what it was, but the feeling of hunting with his pack was euphoric. Malia snapping playfully at his tail as he ran and jumped. Her coyote form was a lot bigger than his wolf, in fact he was more the size of Kira's fox form. For some reason that realisation filled him with dread, and -_  You can't kill me! - _the voice boomed like thunder over their heads. The whole pack froze, turned to look at Stiles._   
  
_Stiles cowered under their stares, turned to look at his tail - it had a white tip, and there was thunder and lightning. O_ h Scott, _the voice boomed,_ you really have to learn not to trust a fox…   
  
_Scott howled, but this time it was anguished, betrayed - the rest of the pack joined in. Stiles whined and looked down at his paws - his claws were covered in Scott's blood, oh god, oh no, this couldn't be happening -_   
  
_-_ he woke up gasping for air, Malia grimly pinning him down.    
  
"Oh, Jesus _fuck,"_ Stiles swore, flopping back down on to the bed. His heart was hammering loud in his chest, way too loud, almost deafening. "Sorry - shit, I couldn't count my fingers, I couldn't wake myself up, sorry - wait, is that - I can hear your - shit, I'm a motherfuckin werewolf!"   
  
Malia let go of his wrists and rolled her eyes, mouth ticking up into her trademark 'you're an idiot, but I love you' grin.   
  
"Scott left to tell the others you're okay, and he said you shouldn't go out in public today, it'll be too loud. You tried to leave while you were dreaming."   
  
"How are you so calm about this?" Stiles flailed his arms - his _werewolf_ arms - around for emphasis. "I have superpowers! I - I have to see my dad! Oh my God. Do you think I could hear his heartbeat from here? I can hear yours, it's freaky."   
  
Malia snorted. " _I_ can hear his heartbeat so…"   
  
Stiles grinned at her, mentally shaking off the fear left over from his nightmare. "You're getting way better at that! Now I just have to…"   
  
He trailed off, began to parse out the sounds he could hear. That was definitely Malia's heartbeat, steadily thumping away next to him. On his desk, his laptop made a whirring sound. The breeze was making the papers on his desk rustle quietly. Okay. And outside the room.. that was a bird chirping, cute. A dog barked, a car drove past, nothing out of the ordinary. He was startled by someone jogging past the house, Duran Duran blasting from their earphones. That definitely wasn't human hearing range, and of fucking course it was Hungry like the Wolf, what else could it be? Okay, focus - the rest of the house. He could hear the washing machine vibrating and making sloshing sounds, the dishwasher too. His dad must have been stress-cleaning. There was the sound of… a page in a book turning, or a newspaper maybe. And hey - that's another heartbeat! His dad's _heartbeat._   
  
Suddenly Stiles wanted nothing more than to see his dad, so he jumped out of bed - and immediately tripped over on his sheets. His body caught itself in record time, and he threw up his arms in triumph. Malia snorted, amused, and jumped gracefully down next to him.   
  
Stiles breathed through his nose, and… He was so right about that cons list - Malia had terrible morning breath. He could also smell her sweat, but his wolfy brain was not particularly worried about that. Actually, he kind of wanted to stick his nose in her armpit and - uh, nope. Not gonna think that, no siree.   
  
Malia shoved him towards the bedroom door, huffing impatiently. "Come on, let's go see your dad."   
  
**~~~**   
  
His dad knocked over a mug of coffee in his hurry to cross the kitchen, and Stiles actually cried at with relief upon burying his face in his dad's shoulder. Months of stress just seemed to pour out of him (which is, after all, the intended effect of the Stilinski Special), and it was only intensified by his new wolf instincts - the scent, sound of his dad's heart beating (nice and healthy, thank you very much!) - it was like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title is from Hungry like the Wolf   
> i'm freakin hilarious


End file.
